Sterling (Carolina Reapers 6)

“Omigod,” a redhead said, practically bouncing on her toes as she looked past me. “That’s Jansen Sterling. He’s as hot as his pictures!” She glanced down at her friend, who was staring awestruck at Maxim. “Sterling is single, right, Alice?”

The awestruck girl nodded. “According to the Reapers Rocking Roster group, he’s not attached.”

A cold spike of ice shot through the center of my chest.

Don’t. I chided myself. Hadn’t I just been internally ranting about Jansen and I owing nothing to each other beyond the terms we set?

The redhead fluffed her hair, popping out her chest as her eyes widened behind me.

I didn’t need to turn around to know who now stood behind me—I could feel him there. Feel the heat from his body, the delicious prickle of electricity against my skin that happened any time he was near me.

“London?” Maxim asked from my left, Cannon and Axel now striding toward us. “The sharpies?”

I blinked out my cold-infused glare on the girls, and reminded myself who I was in this moment—London Foster, Reapers Game Day Event Coordinator.

Not, London Foster—majorly crushing on Jansen Sterling while simultaneously wanting to throttle him. And these fans, regardless of their comments, were important. They loved the Reapers, had waited out in the cold for just a glimpse of them, and I would do my damn job.

“Of course,” I said, popping on my invisible career hat. I grabbed the handful of sharpies and headshot photos from my bag, passing them out to Maxim, Cannon, and Axel. Then I sucked in a sharp breath, spinning to face Jansen. Or, his chest, rather, since that was how close he stood behind me. I stepped back, extending the items toward him.

His eyes bored into mine, and I had the urge to melt under that stare. To let my knees give out like they wanted and simply fall into those arms that I knew were so damn strong.

But I steeled my spine.

Even as his fingers brushed mine when he took the pictures and pens from me, I didn’t give into that trembling ache.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice pure gravel as he took them and stepped around me like I was nothing more than a piece of furniture. Certainly not a friend, or a woman he’d kissed senseless on not one, but two separate occasions. Not to mention had his hands on me, in me.

Probably second nature to him.

My shoulders dropped at my own stupidity. Of course, the kisses we shared weren’t life-altering to him. Why would they be? He’d been an NHL star for a hot minute now and had women falling at his feet without him saying a word. Just because they’d meant something to me, didn’t mean the same for him. And I couldn’t truly be mad about that. Not when he was free to do whatever he pleased, and so was I.

Then why do I feel so…awful?

About the girls fawning over him like he was a prize to be won.

About the way his gaze had burned when he’d looked so…disappointed in me when Maxim made me laugh.

About wanting him when I knew I shouldn’t.

Everything bunched and tensed inside me. A pot of water about to boil over.

I backed away from the players and the fans, allowing them to do their thing while I tried like hell to get a grip on my breathing.

Maxim was the first to finish since he’d been the first to start, and he walked over to where I waited patiently near the entrance of the building. “What are you doing tonight?” he asked.

“Caspian has you checking up on me, doesn’t he?” I asked, eying Maxim. Caspian had gone straight to his room after the game to power rest for the celebration later. He didn’t have any obligations like Maxim and Sterling had, so he was free.

“Why would you think that?” Maxim tilted his head.

I shook mine. “Because Caz’s obsession with keeping tabs on me has doubled since we work for the same team,” I said. And I knew his heart was in the right place. It had always been in the right place. Ever since that day he lost me in the storm cellar.

A cold chill raced along my spine.

“Well,” Maxim said, drawing my attention. “Not everything I do is at your brother’s behest.” I laughed again, the reaction free and easy when he used words like behest. “She laughs again,” he said, and he almost looked like he might smile. Almost.

“So?” I reeled in my laughter. “You’re being unusually funny and cheerful today. I’m not used to it.”

Something flickered in his gaze, a darkness swirling there for a second before it was gone. “I can be…cheerful,” he argued, but he nearly tripped over the word. “Sometimes.”

I smiled at him, grateful for the distraction since Jansen was still talking to the redhead. Axel and Cannon had already wrapped up and headed inside the hotel. And I couldn’t escape to the comforts of my room until I’d officially closed the fan event.